1919
by MrDrP
Summary: It's February 14, 1919 and two old friends are about to be reunited in Paris ... A Mim and Jon story. COMPLETE
1. Alone

I'll be updating this short Valentine's Day story over the course of the next week or two. Enjoy!

_So Not the End of the World_ returns on Friday, February 22.

Leave a review, get a response.

Mim and Jon © Disney

* * *

Paris

February 14, 1919

I.

Mim Possible stood in a corner of the hushed Sainte-Chapelle, gazing at the beautiful multi-hued windows. They seemed alive, as the afternoon sun streamed through the stained glass, dappling the church with stunning blues, reds, and yellows. She began to relax as she took comfort from the church whose Gothic splendor seemed so distant from the course, violent world in which she lived. Sainte-Chaepelle had become her oasis, a place where she was at peace – and ever since that fateful day at the World's Fair there had been very few of those for her.

To say Mim's life had not turned out as expected was an understatement. The erstwhile reporter had now been a fugitive for more than a decade and a half, on the run ever since Miss Go had framed her for the theft of Professor Demen's electrostatic illuminator. Mim had to leave Middleton behind, never again to see her family, her friends, and most of all, dear, dear Jon, with whom, she'd realized after it was too late, she'd fallen in love.

She'd tried to bury the pain of her lost life in romances and adventure, but the romances had been empty and the many adventures unfulfilling. Finally, she chose to adjust to her new circumstances; in doing so, she found a measure of peace, and eventually purpose. When France was engulfed by war, Mim volunteered as an ambulance driver, soon became a nurse-in-training, and as the carnage mounted, found herself a full nurse. She spent the next four years in field hospitals, tending to wounded French soldiers. When the great conflict came to an end, she found a position at the Val-de-Place, Paris' military hospital, and continued to care for those who had served and still suffered from their wounds.

Mim had had another long day of tending to the maimed and injured and was grateful for the chance to rest, allowing the quiet stillness of the chapel to embrace her. She closed her eyes and allowed her thoughts to drift to a sunnier, happier place. Here in the silence of the old church she was at peace enough with her life to occasionally indulge her deepest dreams and wonder what might have been under different circumstances, what life could have been like with Jon in Middleton. Given the date, she allowed her imagination to take flight.

After a few minutes of pleasant reveries she reluctantly forced herself to leave the Colorado of her fantasies and returned to the Paris of her present. The onetime investigative journalist sighed and offered a prayer, asking that her old friend be well, wherever he was. Then she left the Upper Chapel and headed downstairs to leave.

II.

There wasn't much for Jon Stoppable to do other than wander the streets of Paris. Using his one arm, he pulled his field coat close about himself to ward off the February chill. He was still technically on active duty, but now that the fighting was over, nobody seemed particularly concerned with what he did or where he went. Nobody knew what to make of him after he declined the opportunity to return to the States the previous December. He'd argued that in spite of his injuries there were others who needed to be shipped home first, that he was content to stay in France. His apparent act of selflessness was acknowledged by his superiors and his doctors. Then he was essentially left to fend for himself – the Army didn't have much use for a crippled first lieutenant, after all.

As Jon felt the winter cold work its way into his bones he cursed the memory of Major Barkin, something he'd done many times since the previous autumn. If anybody was responsible for the way Jon's life had been ruined, it was his old boss on the Middleton Police Department and commanding officer in the great Argonne offensive. It was Barkin who had not only fired him from the force for purportedly spending too much time trying to clear Mim Possible's name but who then went out of his way to put obstacles in Jon's path when he continued his quest to find the real culprit on his own.

Given all that had happened since that fateful day at the Tri-City Expo, that Jon would wind up in a unit led by Barkin had seemed a truly cruel twist of fate.

That Barkin would then refuse to listen to Jon during the fighting was not at all surprising, however.

As a result of Barkin's bull-headedness, the unit was mauled as it tried to take a German position during the final days of the war. Barkin was killed and Jon was seriously injured while he tried to pull his men back to safety. Mim would never know it, but it was she who'd inspired Jon that day to conquer his fears and do what needed to be done: he had been terrified by the unfolding carnage, the exploding shells, the way the whole hellish conflict had seemed to come find him that day yet the memory of his friend encouraged him to set all that aside so he might come to the aid of his comrades. They'd pinned a Distinguished Service Cross on him afterwards, but Jon felt it belonged to his oldest friend, the woman with whom he'd fallen in love.

How he regretted never revealing his feelings to Mim. They had been friends since they were children and were in their early twenties when the World's Fair came to Middleton. Jon had assumed they'd have all the time in the world. Instead, time had run out, he'd failed her, and now he was a shattered wreck without much of a future. The idea of gong back to the States had no appeal to him. Jon knew his younger brother Aaron would insist on caring for him, but Jon wanted no part of that. He didn't want to be a burden on his brother's family – and he didn't want to be an object of pity.

Though Jonathan Stoppable wasn't sure what he'd do with his life, he at least had a plan for the present. Mim had always been curious, always talking about seeing new places. He decided he would do her proud and better himself. What better way, he thought, than to explore Paris while he had the opportunity?

Which was that day why he found himself entering the Chapel of Sainte-Chapelle …

_TBC …_


	2. Reunion

Thanks to Netherwood, screaming phoenix, Mr. Wizard, Ran Hakubi, Josh84, The Enduring Man-Child, JAKT, spectre666, Quathis, CajunBear73, Molloy, JeanieBeanie33, Aero Tendo, and rye.bread for reviewing and to everyone for reading.

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Mim and Jon © Disney

* * *

I. 

Mim was about to reach for the door when it swung open. She stepped back to let whoever was on the other side enter the church.

II.

Jon pushed open the church door and walked in.

III.

The two old friends found themselves staring at one another. Though it had been almost fifteen years since they'd seen each other, neither Mim nor Jon had any doubt as to the other's identity.

Mim gasped and raised her hands to her mouth.

Jon gawped.

Then, without thinking, the two old friends embraced.

"You're alive," Jon said, his body trembling. "Thank God, you're alive."

Mim said nothing. Instead she hugged Jon even more fiercely and he responded in kind with his one arm.

After what seemed an eternity, they pulled apart.

Mim now allowed herself a good look at her friend. He was in uniform. His hair was now parted to the side. And while his muttonchops were gone, he still sported a mustache. But what caught her eye was the empty sleeve that hung by his side. She'd already sensed his arm's absence during the hug. Still … "Oh, dear God," she said softly.

"Etrays, during the Argonne offensive," Jon offered. He knew that Mim, the journalist, would want to know how he'd lost his arm. But he also knew that Mim, his oldest friend, would never ask him to relive the events that had so clearly broken his body. "It stinks, but it was worth it," he said honestly. "I was able to save my men."

He took the moment of silence to look at her more closely. Mim was no longer a girl, but a woman. While she was beautiful, she was also weary and seemed burdened. He could see it in her eyes and in the strands of gray that shot through the mane of red hair that she still wore up.

They stood together in awkward silence.

"How long until you have to return to barracks?" she finally asked.

Jon shook his head. "I'm on leave for the weekend," he answered. "Not that they'd miss me."

"Don't say that,' she protested.

"It's the truth," he replied. "The Army hasn't quite figured out what to do with me," he said as he gestured towards his sleeve.

Mim nodded. "Would you care to join me for dinner?" she asked.

"What do you think?" Jon said with a broad smile before he extended his arm, which Mim gladly took, and led her out into the streets of Paris.

IV.

Mim and Jon walked to St-Germain-des-pres, the neighborhood where she lived, and made their way to a small bistro on a quiet side street.

Jon opened the door for Mim, then followed her in. He surveyed their surroundings. The place was cozy, accommodating just a few tables. Rather than seem crowded, however, it seemed intimate. And while some might have suggested it appeared slightly shabby, it struck Jon as homey and lived in.

"Mademoiselle Press!" the maitre d', an older, fatherly-looking man, said in greeting.

"Bonjour, Phillipe," Mim replied. "Une table pour deux, s'il vous plait."

"Oui," he said with a warm smile and a graceful flourish, indicating that they should follow him. The man seated Mim and Jon at a quite corner table, lit a candle, then retreated.

"Okay, I may have barely earned a Gentleman's C in French," Jon said. "But I'm pretty sure he called you 'Miss Press'."

"I had to come up with a new name when I left," Mim explained. "I took my grandmother's."

"Miriam Press. Hmmmmm," Jon said as he rubbed his chin before a huge grin creased his face. "That's very … Mim Pressive, Mim!"

Mim groaned and rolled her eyes, then smiled. "It's been ages since I've been called Mim."

"But that's you're name!" Jon protested.

"Was," she said wistfully. "It seemed best to leave that behind when I left Middleton."

Jon shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "You wouldn't have had to leave Middleton if it weren't for me. This is all my fault."

"Pardon me?" Mim said. "Were you the nefarious character behind my travails?"

"Mim," Jon countered. "I should have convinced Barkin to increase security. I should have solved the case. I'm sorry I failed you," he said, his face a study in contrition.

"Jonathan, you did not fail me," she said emphatically.

"Yes, I did," he said.

"Jon, you believed in me," she said as she reached across the table for his hand.

"How did you know …"

"If you recall, I was a very good journalist," Mim observed. "I knew how to acquire information. I read the papers, first in Middleton, later, after I went into hiding …"

"You were in Middleton?" he spluttered.

"Yes," she answered. "For about a week after the theft."

"Where?" he asked in amazement.

"Different places: the church basement, the rail yards, the forest on the edge of town."

"Why didn't you contact me?" he asked. "I could have helped you!"

"No, you could not," she said. She raised a hand to cut off the protest she saw coming. "Jonathan, everybody, including my own family, believed I thieved the device. You alone said otherwise---"

"Well, there was Wayne Load …"

Mim didn't recognize the name at first, but then she recalled the face of a chubby boy with a love of cameras. "Oh yes, I remember him. He was a very enterprising child. And how much credence did Chief Barkin or the press give his word?"

"None," Jon admitted. "Still, you should have come to me."

"All I would have accomplished by involving you would have been implicating you in my crime."

"But you didn't commit a crime. You're innocent!"

"I know that and so do you. And I appreciate all you have done to clear my name."

"I wish I could have done more," Jon sighed. "I tried. Even after Barkin fired me," he said as his expression grew dark. "Talk about a villain. The so-called "Crime of the Century" was his gravy ticket for more than fifteen years. He even rode it to a commission in the Army when the war broke out."

"I am sorry that your devotion to our friendship cost you your job," Mim said. "I know how much pride you took in being a detective."

Jon waved off her concern. "Don't be. I made more money and had more fun as a private investigator. No Barkin and I had clients from Middleton all the way to Go City."

Mim smiled. "I am sure you did. You may have had an unusual perspective on matters, but I recall that it helped us solve more than one caper."

"Well, I tried to do what I could," he said with a shrug. "Still wish I could have found that electro-thing to prove you were innocent."

"So do I," she agreed. "Still, you tried and that means more to me than you will ever know. Thank you."

"Think nothing of it," Jon said with a wave of his hand before his stomach rumbled quite loudly.

Mim's eyes opened wide.

"'Scuse me," he apologized.

Mim looked at Jon for another moment, then laughed. "I am so glad that some things have not changed," she said with a warm smile, eliciting a sheepish grin from Jon. "Now, I believe the time has arrived for us to order dinner," she added as she turned and gestured to a small chalkboard on which the evening's offerings were listed.

_To Be Continued …_


	3. Middleton

Thanks to Spectre666, CajunBear73, screaming phoenix, whitem, Comet Moon, Josh84, Mr. Wizard, Quathis, JAKT, daywalkr82, Ran Hakubi, Netherwood, JeanieBeanie33, Warbird, Molloy, and Ranchero D for reviewing and to everyone for reading.

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Mim, Jon © Disney

* * *

I.

Jon looked at the small board on which the evening's dinner selections had been posted, then at Mim. "You think we could have a glass of wine before we order?" he asked.

"Of course," she said. Mim saw that Jon suddenly seemed a bit nervous – his change in demeanor was unexpected, but not disorienting. She suppressed a small smile as she recalled that her old friend had always been prone to the jitters, sometimes for the oddest reasons. Noticing escargot was one of the offerings, she couldn't help but wonder if Jon had an irrational fear of snails. She motioned to the waiter who came to the table and then ordered a bottle of wine.

"You know, you talk like a native," Jon said, his tone now more relaxed.

"Don't be silly," she said, waving him off.

"No, really. The accent, the tour," Jon said. "It's like you've been here all your life. You could be an excursion guide."

The two old friends had left Sainte-Chapelle, headed to Notre Dame, then crossed the Seine, and walked along the river towards Mim's neighborhood. Along the way she'd pointed out points of historic and artistic interest and, once in St-Germain-des-pres, the shops and cafes she frequented on a regular basis. She had not been surprised that Jon was more interested in the boulangerie than the bookstore.

"Thank you," Mim replied. "I never thought I'd feel at peace anywhere after I left Middleton, but Paris has become my home."

"Not a bad place to hang your hat," Jon said as he watched the waiter open the bottle. The man poured some wine into Mim's glass. She sampled the drink, then nodded to man who filled both her glass and Jon's.

"No, it's not," she agreed as she watched Jon sample the wine. His expression told her that she'd chosen well. "So," she asked. "What is Middleton like these days?"

"Bigger," Jon said. "Every time I go back, there's a new building, more cars."

"Go back?" Mim asked.

"I live in Go City now," he explained. "After I left the force, police force, I moved there. More clients, change of pace, blah, blah, blah. It's not Paris, but it's okay," he said. "But enough about the Breezy City, you want to know about our home town …"

Mim listened as Jon told her about all dizzying changes to the place where she'd spent her first twenty-two years.

" …It even has a college now, the Institute of Science and Technology. And get this: North Middleton actually became its own town just before the war."

"But Northie is just a few farms!" Mim exclaimed.

"Not anymore," Jon said. "And this is the best part: when they incorporated, they decided to call themselves 'Upperton'."

"Surely you joke," Mim said.

"Cross my heart," Jon said as he did just that.

Mim cocked an eyebrow. "That doesn't count," she said with a smirk. "You're Jewish."

"True, but making a Star of David doesn't have the same oomph," Jon observed.

"You are still so eccentric," she said.

Jon shrugged. "I am what I am."

"It's good that some things have not changed," she quipped.

"Thanks," he replied with a lopsided grin before, taking another sip of the wine.

"You're most welcome," she replied, before enjoying some wine herself. "Do you miss it?"

"Middleton?" Jon asked.

Mim nodded.

He pursed his lips before answering. "Not really," he said to her surprise. "After you left, it wasn't the same. I took a lot of guff for trying to clear your name—"

"Jon, I am so sorry for what you've had to endure on my account," Mim interjected.

"Don't be," he said. "What got my goat wasn't what they thought about me, it's that they were willing to believe the worst of you after you'd done so much good over the years. I really didn't want to be around people like that anymore."

"Yet you returned?"

"Well, Wayne and I became friends, and then there were my parents. To be honest, I didn't talk to them for years after the World's Fair. I was so angry with them for believing you could steal something. But then my father got sick and, well ..."

Jon paused, then looked away from Mim.

"… We set our differences aside."

Mim saw the look of guilt on Jon's face. She wondered how long he'd felt that he'd betrayed her by being a responsible son. "Jon, I'm glad you and your father reconciled. He's a good man," she said. "How is he?"

"He died back in '15," Jon answered.

"I'm so sorry to hear that," she said.

"Thanks," he said. "Fortunately, it was quick. He died in his sleep."

"Thank heavens," Mim said.

"Yeah," Jon agreed.

The two sat in silence, both having seen far too much violent death in recent years. Mim cleared her throat, played with a lock of her hair, and took a deep breath. Trying to sound casual, but failing miserably, she asked, "So, is there someone waiting for you back home?"

Jon, as was his wont around women, was oblivious to Mim's unaccustomed unease.

"The bill collector maybe," Jon laughed, setting Mim, who now cocked an eyebrow at him, at ease. "What about you?" he asked. "Surely there must be someone in your life."

"No," she said. "Not now."

"I see," Jon replied. "But there was?"

Mim looked into her glass, then into Jon's eyes. "Nobody worth talking about," she said.

Though Jon's curiosity was piqued, he sensed that this wasn't the time to press Mim about her past. Instead, he showily patted his stomach, eliciting a chuckle from her. "I don't know about you," he said, "but I sure am getting hungry. Maybe we should order some food?"

"That's a capital idea," Mim said.

She and Jon then turned their gazes to the board and began to consider what they might enjoy for dinner.

_To Be Continued …_


	4. Revelation

Thanks to Comet Moon, spectre666, Pharoah Rutin Tutin, DJ Duncan, CajunBear73, daywalkr82, Josh84, storyreader51, Warbird, Ran Hakubi, Yankee Bard, Molloy, screaming phoenix, LTAOZFAN, Quathis, JEanieBeanie33, whitem, Netherwood, Mr. Wizard, Solarstone, JAKT, Drakonis Aurous, continental-line, and Darkcloudalpha for reviewing and to everyone for reading.

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Mim and Jon © Disney

* * *

I.

Mim watched as Jon scrutinized the small board that hung on the wall, pleased to see that he'd mastered enough French to navigate his way through his dining choices. Then again, food always had been a priority for her old friend, so she wasn't surprised that he'd learned at least enough of the local language to enjoy a meal.

"So, how's the soup here?" he asked.

"It's very good, especially the Vichyssoise. But you should really have the coq a vin or the entrecot."

"I probably should," Jon sighed. "But I try to avoid things that involve cutting. Get's kind of messy, using one hand."

"I could cut it for you," she said, immediately regretting her offer. The look of defeat on Jon's face – one she'd previously encountered in the maimed soldiers for whom she cared – was crushing.

"Thanks, but, uh, no," he murmured before he looked away.

Mim silently cursed herself. She looked at Jon, who now refused to make eye contact, and made a decision. She didn't know how he'd react, but at the moment, she didn't care – she knew she had to do this. She rose from her chair, moved her plate and silverware next to his, sat down and waved to the waiter, who approached. "Le Entrecot au deux et une bouteille du cabernet, s'il vouz plait," she said to the server who nodded, turned on his heel, and retreated to the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" Jon asked.

"We're having the entrecot and some wine," she said with determination.

"I know that," he said acidly. "Looks like you want to feed the cripple."

"No," she retorted sharply. "I want to feed the man I love."

An almost palpable silence enveloped the table for what seemed ages.

Mim knew she that she'd just been incredibly impetuous, that she and Jon had only just been reunited, that he might not reciprocate her feelings, and even if he did, it had been years since they'd seen each other, so much had happened in their lives, and they were no longer the two young people who knew each other in Colorado. Yet despite all that, she believed her declaration to be true and that it was one she had to make, consequences be damned.

"D-did you just say you love me?" Jon finally stammered.

"You heard me correctly, Jonathan Stoppable," Mim said.

"B-But we only just … I mean, it's only been a couple of hours since … I, uh, … how could you love me? I, uh, well, uh, it seems kind of, well, sudden," he asked.

Mim sighed. In all the years she'd fantasized about having this conversation, this was most definitely not how she had envisioned it unfolding. "Jonathan, I have loved you for the longest time and while this may seem an abrupt way to reveal my feelings for you, I believe fifteen years is time enough for a woman to wait to tell a man of her affections," she said, her voice a combination of excitement and tetchiness. "Now I'm going to help you enjoy this meal because as much as things have changed over the years, I am sure that you still love good food and I'm not going to let some … some … injury get in the way of you and a superior dinner."

"You love me?" he said, still finding it difficult to believe what he'd just heard.

"Yes, I believe that is what I said," she said matter-of-factly as the waiter approached with the wine. Mim nodded to the man who uncorked the bottle and poured two glasses.

"You - you've loved me for a long time?" Jon said.

"Yes, but I won't for long if you keep repeating yourself," she said with a sly grin as she saw Jon's look of disbelief had changed into one of wonder.

"Well," Jon said. "I guess can live with this."

"So," Mim said.

"So?" Jon replied.

"Do you have anything you wish to tell me?" she asked hopefully.

"Yes," he said. "I think I should have ordered the coq a vin. I've always had a weakness for a good chicken dinner …"

Mim cocked an eyebrow.

"… And I haven't stopped loving you since the African diamond heist."

Mim blinked. "The African diamond heist? Why, that was a year before Professor Demens' invention was thieved! Why didn't you say anything?"

"I believe your affections were directed towards Teddy Wilson at the time," Jon said with a relaxed grin. "How was I going to compete with a posh attorney with the finest head of hair in the county?"

Mim blushed and looked away. "I was such a fool. Forgive me."

"For what?" Jon laughed. "Teddy's a nice fellow and that was long ago. Besides, I may have lost my arm …"

"Don't joke about that," Mim protested, now feeling sensitive after her earlier gaffe.

"If I don't laugh about it, Mim …" he said with a shrug. She frowned, not sure that she agreed with Jon's reasoning, but then nodded and he continued. "Wilson lost his hair."

"Oh?" Mim asked.

"All of it." Jon answered with malevolent relish.

"Oh dear," she said before she began to snicker.

Mim's good humor was contagious: soon Jon, too, was snickering. It wasn't long before the two were sharing a belly laugh. "I have missed you so much," she confessed after their laughter subsided. She found herself feeling a joy she'd not known in fifteen years.

"Me too," Jon said. "So you really love me?"

Mim rolled her eyes. "Yes, I do. Why do you find that so hard to believe?"

"I don't know. It's just that, well, you're the most magnificent woman in the world and I'm well …"

"What?" she countered. "Eccentric? Aggravating? Less than an A student?"

Jon was stunned.

"Oh, and might I mention: a warm, funny, engaging, handsome man who has always shared my spirit of adventure?"

"Wait," he said. "You think I'm handsome?"

"Yes, I do," she said. "Even more so since I last saw you. I must confess the mustache suits you far better than the muttonchops did."

"But the ladies loved the muttonchops!" Jon protested.

"Oh, yes, I'm sure they did," Mim said sardonically.

"You don't think they did," he said, suddenly deflated.

"Do not ask questions to which you do not want answers," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "Another reason I love you is that I always knew you were brave," she added in a softer, more serious tone as she brushed her fingers along his empty sleeve.

"Mim, I'm not brave. I'm still afraid of just about everything."

"And yet here you are wearing what I believe to be a Distinguished Service Cross ribbon on your tunic," she said as she arched her eyebrow.

"Yeah, well, look, I just did what I had to do."

"And I'm sure you would have said the same if anyone had asked you why you always accompanied me on my adventures."

"Fine," Jon said. "Point made."

Mim looked at Jon smugly.

"So, if you loved me," Jon asked, "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

Mim bit her lip. "I did not realize my affections until after we were parted."

"Huh," Jon said.

"In retrospect I realized I was beginning to fall in love with you long before the Fair. It was happening gradually."

"And when we were separated …"

"I knew that the pain and loss I experienced were not due to the absence of one who was just a friend, no matter how dear."

As Mim spoke, Jon took her hand in his. He was about to lean over and kiss her when the waiter approached with their food. He set the plates down before Mim and Jon, leaving them alone to their meal.

Mim watched as Jon looked from her to his dinner. He gazed at the entrecot for a few moments, then, grinning, observed, "This looks – and smells – good."

She smiled, then gestured to the cutlery. "May I?" she asked.

"Please," he replied.

They sat in companionable silence, the candle flame casting a warm light, as Jon watched Mim cut into his steak.

_To Be Continued …_


	5. Confession

Thanks to daywalker82, whitem, Pharoah Rutin Tutin, Mr. Wizard, Comet Moon, screaming phoenix, Kwebs, Quathis, Ran Hakubi, CajunBear73, spedclass, Josh84, Warbird, Samurai Crunchbird, Molloy, continental-line, storyreader51, rye.bread, spectre666, JAKT, JeanieBeanie33, Netherwood, LTAOZFAN, Drakonis Aurous, daccu65, kpfan72491, and Thomas Linquist for reviewing and to everyone for reading.

Special thanks to campy for proofreading.

Leave a review, get a response.

Mim, Jon © Disney

I.

"I am one satisfied customer," Jon declared.

"I though you would be," Mim said. "Perhaps we might order some dessert?"

"You won't receive an argument from me," Jon said.

Mim smiled, beckoned to the waiter, and ordered crème brûlée with some coffee, which was soon brought to the table.

"Aaron would be in heaven," Jon said as he inhaled the coffee's aroma. When Mim quirked an eyebrow, Jon explained, "He loves a good cup of Joe."

"And how is your brother?" Mim asked of Jon's younger – and far more serious – sibling.

"He's doing well; he took over the dry goods store when Pop got sick. He's married …"

"Oh my," Mim exclaimed. "Little Aaron – Married!"

Jon chuckled. "Yep. He even has a little boy," Jon said. "Lucky little squirt's named after his uncle."

Mim smiled. "You must have been quite honored."

"Honored, flattered, amazed. He was born after I shipped out," Jon said. "I just hope that when he gets older I can do my duty and convince him to be as open-minded as his Uncle Jon about food."

Mim smirked. "I recall you had a strange fascination with Mexican cuisine."

"Ah, the taco," Jon sighed. "I am still amazed that it never caught on in the States."

Mim thought back to the Fair and the taco stand and Middleton and ... "I, I must ask," she said quietly. "My family?"

Jon had waited for Mim to raise the topic, knowing it would be sensitive. Since she'd read coverage of the theft and its aftermath, she knew she'd been branded a black sheep by her parents, who decried how their daughter had fallen and besmirched the family's good name.

"Last I heard your family was doing well. I can't say we were on very good terms."

Mim nodded her understanding.

"Tim married Millicent King three years ago," Jon said.

Mim snorted as she recalled how rambunctious her younger brother could be. "God help her."

"Actually, I think he's the one who needs the help," Jon said.

"Oh?"

"Let's just say that Tim met his match in Millicent."

Mim laughed. "So, I must ask. Am I an aunt yet?"

Jon shook his head. "Not as of the time I shipped out. But," he said, taking Mim's hand in his, "You can think of yourself as Johnny's aunt."

"Thank you," she said as she gently rubbed her thumb on the back of Jon's hand. He looked at his wine glass and chuckled.

"And what is so amusing?"

"Can you imagine me? A dad?" Jon said with a dismissive waved of the hand and a laugh. "You remember how much trouble I had with Fido when I was a boy?"

Mim tried to smile in response, but her expression became one of incredible sadness and she looked away.

"What?" Jon asked, sensing something was suddenly terribly wrong.

When she looked back at him, her eyes were brimming with tears. "You don't know how many times I did just that," she said.

"Did what … wait a minute," Jon said as he considered Mim's words. "I know you said you loved me. But …" he stammered. "You thought about … children … with me?"

She nodded. "Yes. But it will never happen."

"Why not?" he said. "I mean, sure, we shouldn't rush into anything, but someday, if you'd like, you know …"

Mim reached up and gently cupped Jon's face. "You dear, dear man, there is still nothing I'd like more than that."

"Then I don't understand," he said, clearly confused.

"Jonathan," Mim said, her voice cracking, "I can't have children."

"What?"

Mim bit her lip and looked Jon in the eye.

"I mentioned before that there was someone not worth mentioning …"

Jon nodded.

"… But what happened with that person is something you must know." Mim now closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Four years after I left Middleton I met someone in Vienna."

"You were in Austria?" Jon exclaimed in wonderment. "I didn't think there was a place left that you'd not been to!"

Though over dinner she'd told him of her globe-trotting peregrinations after her flight from Colorado, Mim had omitted her time in the Hapsburg capital. She now planned to rectify that omission, as difficult as doing so would be. "I was in Vienna before I came to Paris," she explained, her voice tinged with sadness and her brow furrowed. "It was in the summer of Aught Eight that I met a dashing young Austrian nobleman. He swept me off my feet and I was lost in a whirlwind of romance …"

Mim noticed that Jon was looking at her intently, his face an expressionless mask that reflected no emotion.

"… Kurt said he loved me and I convinced myself that I loved him, too. It was the first time since we were parted that I felt I could allow myself to care for another without the sense that I was betraying you. I knew I loved you, but I believed I would never see you again and then he told me of his hopes to marry me, to make me his countess. It was all so intoxicating and thrilling. There were balls and adventure and country parties and …" Mim looked away from Jon and paused, then said softly, "Soon I learned I was with child …"

Though Jon's face remained inscrutable, he was now squeezing Mim's hand in his.

"… And Kurt made it clear that he in fact had no plans to make me his bride. When he learned of the baby, I thought he might fulfill his responsibilities; instead he abandoned me, cut me off. I was alone in Vienna, four months pregnant, and I will admit it: I was scared, truly scared, and fearful for my future …"

Mim paused, as if steeling herself. Jon noticed that her eyes looked haunted, her countenance forlorn.

"… I decided I had no choice but to end the pregnancy and so found an abortionist …"

As Mim closed her eyes and shook her head, Jon could see the dark events of the past enveloping her. He let go of her hand so he could wrap his arm around her.

"… The man did his work but, but when it was done. I was in so much pain, for so long, and …" Mim's lip trembled.

Jon pulled her close to him. "It's okay. You don't have to say anymore."

"She was my baby," she said in an anguished voice. "My little girl." Mim buried her head in Jon's shoulder. "You must think I'm a horrid person."

"I think you were in a awful situation and you made a heart-wrenching decision," Jon replied, gently but firmly. "And after all that happened, you went ahead and became a nurse—"

"I did not become a nurse until much later," she interrupted.

"That's right," Jon said. "You became a teacher at an orphanage here in Paris, if I remember correctly from what you told me over dinner …"

Mim nodded.

"… You helped children who had no one to care for them. Then when the war broke out you became a nurse, helping wounded soldiers at the front. Sounds to me like someone who was hurt decided that the best way she could deal with her pain was to help others who were also hurt. You took your suffering and turned it into something good. That's not horrid, Mim. That's heroic. _You're_ heroic."

"I am not heroic," she protested emphatically.

"You could fool me," Jon countered. "You've spent the last how many years helping people? They gave me a medal for what I did at the front. Do you realize you spent a lot more time there than I ever did?"

"That was different," she said.

"I don't think so," he said. "You saw the same death, you saw the same suffering, you saw the same destruction. You could have stayed back in Paris, but you didn't. Instead, you went to the war. You know, if anyone at this table should be wearing this medal, it's you." Jon withdrew his arm from Mim's shoulder, and, to make his point, began to remove the service ribbon on his tunic.

"Don't," she said.

"Why not?" he replied as he fumbled at the decoration.

"You earned that," she said.

"And you know what? So did you. We both saved lives, only you saved a whole lot more and for much, much longer," Jon retorted as he began cursing over his difficulty removing the ribbon. "Now are you going to help me or not?"

Mim sighed, then shook her head. "You truly are one of a kind," she said affectionately as she acquiesced and assisted him, her fingers brushing against his as she helped him unpin the decoration. "And what happens next?"

"Well, I'd put it on you, but I'd probably stick you with the pointy end of the pin," Jon said. "So why don't you put it right there," he said as he pointed to a spot on her blouse.

Mim did as he suggested. She looked down at the ribbon, then up at him. "Are you satisfied now, Jonathan?"

"No." Jon shook his head. "While the Army makes a hash of many things," he said, "they do know how to do ceremonial things. We need some more 'oomph' if this is to be done properly." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "If we were doing this correctly, we would have a band."

"Really?" she said, her eyebrow cocked.

"Some Sousa, that kind of thing," Jon explained. "Something celebratory."

"I see," Mim said.

"Well, since we don't have a band, I think I have an idea as to how we can commemorate the occasion."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Jon said as he leaned in and brought his lips to Mim's …

_To Be Continued …_


	6. Night

Thanks to captainkodak1, Mr. Wizard, spectre666, Ran Hakubi, Quathis, Cody MacArthur Fett, Pharaoh Rutin Tutin, daywalkr82, Molloy, storyreader51, kpfan72491, screaming phoenix, Warbird, Josh84, Samurai Crunchbird, Kwebs, soulman3, CajunBear73, Netherwood, continental-line, Ranchero D, silver-badger, whitem, daccu65, LTAOZFAN, JeanieBeanie33, rye.bread, Joe Stoppinghem, and The Mad shoe1 for reviewing and to everyone for reading.

Thanks to campy for proofreading.

Leave a review, get a response.

Mim, Jon © Disney

* * *

I.

Mim broke the kiss, drew back from Jon, and smiled impishly at him. "I am beginning to think you should change your name to Unstoppable," she said.

"I am shocked, shocked by your boldness!" Jon replied as he grinned at the woman atop him. "You know," he continued, "I can honestly say I have never had a night like this before in my life. You, Mim Possible, are an inspiration."

She gently kissed him, then caressed his face. "This is going to sound terribly trite, but while I, I," her throat caught on her words and her eyes began to mist, "while I have had sex many times, I never truly made love until this night."

Jon's grin melted into something softer, knowing what he did of Mim's past – and his own. "It's not trite. It's not even corny," he said as he used his arm to pull her closer. "God, how I love you."

She sighed with contentment. "You love me very well."

"I can only try my best," he said. "You deserve nothing less."

"The same is true for you," she replied.

"Then we're stuck with each other," he said.

"It would appear so," she said.

"Dang it," he said before pulling her in for another kiss.

II.

Mim and Jon lay in the bed together, looking at the stars through one of the two great skylights that dominated her small garret apartment, her head resting in the crook of his shoulder and her fingers tracing nonsense figures on his chest. He, meanwhile, allowed his hand to roam, enjoying the feel of her skin, her curves, her soft places. Each was content and neither said anything for at that moment, nothing needed to be said. Soon, however, the gentle touches betrayed more elemental needs and the two old friends resumed their lovemaking.

III.

Mim looked at the sleeping form beside her. Jon was snoring, his hair a mess. She could not help but think he looked ridiculous. And yet she was enchanted. The night had indeed been wonderful, a gift beyond any she could have ever hoped for.

She had been awake for some time now, long enough to see night turn to dawn and dawn give way to the early morn. During that time she had watched Jon sleep – and she had thought. About them, about their future, and about what she was about to do.

She looked at Jon, at his open mouth, his large ears, and the stump where his arm had been. Then she gently kissed his cheek and quietly slipped out of the bed.

IV.

Jon was surprised to find himself alone.

"Mim?"

He sat up and looked around, wondering where she had gone.

"Mim?" he called out again. Getting no response, he climbed out of the bed, looked in the bathroom, and wandered out of the room. "Mim, are you here?" he asked again as he looked for her.

It was clear she wasn't in the small apartment. He scratched his head, wondering where she had gone, and was about to return to the bedroom when he saw an envelope propped up against a vase on the table.

He took the envelope, grateful that it had not been sealed, and extracted the piece of paper within. Then he sat down on a chair and began reading the letter that Mim had left for him.

V.

_My dearest Jon,_

_Thank you for a magical evening. I can never begin to tell you what it means to me. To see you after all these years, to have the opportunity to share our love in so many ways: it was truly the most wonderful night of my life._

_Alas, all nights must give way to the dawn of a new day – and all the days that come after. As I lay beside you, watching you sleep, I wondered what it would be like to wake up with you next to me every morning for the rest of my life. It was a delightful prospect, a possibility I most fervently would like to see come to pass. Yet my reverie turned dark when I tried to imagine where we might awake each day._

_I cannot go back to America, not after all these years. I know what you will say: that we can work together to clear my name. Indeed, I have no doubt that you would spare no effort in trying to do that, but to what avail? I would always remain the girl who ran away, the great disappointment, and would have to bear the disapproval of those once closest to me. That is something I could not bear to face, even with you by my side. I know that makes me a coward and for that I hope you will forgive me._

_It would mean the world to me if you were to remain here in Paris with me. I had thought to ask you in person, but concluded that would be unfair of me. You deserve time to properly consider such a momentous change to your life and were I there I know I would try to influence your choice any way I could. That is why I am not with you. I have gone out for a while and will return later in the day. I do not expect you to have made a decision by then._

_Should you know that you do not want to stay or that you have any regrets about what has happened between us, I wanted to offer you the chance to leave without any sense of obligation, guilt, or awkwardness. Should I return and find you have left, I will bear you no ill-will. Instead, I shall remain ever grateful for the time we had together, in Middleton and in Paris._

_I am,_

_Ever yours,_

_Mim._

VI.

After Jon read the note he walked back into the bedroom, found his tunic and fumbled inside for his tobacco tin, cigarette papers, and matches. He didn't smoke often but he'd found at the front that when he was confronted with something truly daunting a smoke could help him focus.

He returned to the table. There, he laid the dark leaves on the paper, which he then carefully rolled, picked up the cigarette, which he clenched with his teeth, and struck a match so he could light the end. He took a drag on the cigarette, then exhaled, watching the bluish-gray smoke drift towards the skylight, then returned his attention to the letter, which he read again and then again and then yet again.

When he was done he stubbed out his cigarette, returned to the bedroom and got dressed. He found a pen, some ink and some paper, and returned to the table, where he composed a note of his own. When he was finished, he folded both pieces of paper, crossed his name off the envelope Mim had used, inserted one sheet into that envelope and the other in the pocket of his great coat, rose from the chair, and headed to the door.

VII.

Mim shifted the bag of groceries and baked goods she had purchased so she could open the door to the apartment. With a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, she turned the knob and entered, looking forward to seeing Jon. Instead of being greeted by Jon's smiling visage, she found herself wrinkling her nose at the faint, lingering odor of tobacco.

"Jon," she called out in a hopeful voice, thinking he might be in the bedroom. "I'm back." Much to her disappointment, there was no response. Hoping that he might simply be taking a nap, she decided to investigate.

She bit her lower lip when she saw that the bed had been neatly made, its blanket's taut corners a silent testimony to Jon's time in the Army.

Already knowing no one would be there, she looked into the bathroom. She stood there, feeling numb, and looked at the empty claw-footed tub. Then she returned to the space that served as both living room and dining room.

There, on the table, she noticed the envelope, the one she'd left for Jon. It was where she'd left it, only now it bore her name, written above his, which he'd crossed out. Wary but hopeful, she opened the flap and withdrew the single sheet of paper that was within. She looked at the note, closed her eyes, and carefully placed it on the table. She then went to the small galley kitchen and began to put away the things she'd bought while she was out.

Mim was setting the bag of loose tea on the counter when she felt the first warm tears on her cheeks.

* * *

_To Be Continued …_


	7. Morning

Thanks to Joe Stoppinghem, Mr. Wizard, screaming phoenix, whitem, DJ Dubois, Molloy, Josh84, CajunBear73, Quathis, Pharaoh Rutin Tutin, Kwebs, kpfan72491, daywalkr82, keth1, daccu65, Samurai Crunchbird, JAKT, bigherb81, and storyreader51 for reviewing and to everyone for reading.

As always, leave a review and I will respond.

Thanks to campy for proofreading.

Mim and Jon © Disney

* * *

I.

Mim sat at the table crying, enveloped by a crushing sense of loss and desolation she'd not experienced since the heartrending events of Vienna so many years before. Then, at least, she'd had the fantasy of a life with Jon to comfort her. Now, that fantasy was gone, replaced by the harsh reality of his departure. She was alone, the DSC ribbon she held in the palm of her hand, all that seemingly remained of him in her life.

At first she had told herself she was being foolish, that he'd be back any moment, that there must be a reasonable explanation for his absence, something as simple as his wanting to get some fresh air. But as the day passed by and he didn't appear, she feared that he had indeed left for good.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting at the table, looking absently at the decoration, when she heard the knock on her door. Hoping that it was Jon, she rose from the chair, wiped her eyes, and went to greet her visitor.

Much to her disappointment, when she opened the door she found not Jon but her short, stout first floor neighbor, Madame Leroux. The old woman, who had never been particularly warm towards Mim, glared up at her. "There is some lunatic bellowing your name at the front door," she barked in French. "A one-armed soldier. Touched in the head, I say," she added as she tapped her temple and leaned in close to Mim.

_Jon!_ Mim thought. "Excuse me," she said in her visitor's native tongue as she slipped by and hurried down the stairs. She unlocked the front door and found Jon standing on the steps, awkwardly holding a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of champagne.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I forgot that I'd need a key to get back in. I was going to jimmy the lock but I saw a gendarme coming down the street and then after he'd turned the corner I saw this really mean lady staring at me from the first floor window and, well …" He paused as he focused on the puffy redness around Mim's eyes, "Hey, you've been crying."

"I came home and you were gone," she said, feeling ridiculous. "I, I thought you had chosen to leave."

"I, er, got lost," he admitted. "And I, uh, forgot the name of your street," Jon admitted, eliciting a chuckle and an affectionate roll of the eyes from Mim. Then something occurred to him. "Wait a moment! I left you a note," he said. "I left it on the table where I thought you'd see it!"

"Jon, you left me my letter," she said, her despair having given way to bemused exasperation.

"What do you mean?" he replied incredulously. "That was the most amazing thing anyone has ever given me," he said, earning a broad smile from Mim. "There was no way I was going to leave it behind. I put my note to you in the envelope and put yours right in here," he declared confidently as he withdrew a piece of paper from his coat pocket. He unfolded the sheet and held it before Mim to prove his point.

She looked at the paper and began to snicker. She soon found herself doubled over with laughter.

Jon made a face, then looked at the sheet. He turned a crimson shade of red as he realized he'd inadvertently taken the note he'd penned to Mim and left her the one she'd written to him. "I cannot do anything right," he whined.

"Oh, I don't know about that," she said as she took the flowers from him and led him by the hand into the building. "These are lovely."

"Thanks," he said, still feeling the fool.

"_Imbecile_," Madame Leroux muttered as Mim and Jon passed the old woman on the stairs, prompting Mim to begin laughing again.

II.

After closing the door to the apartment behind them, Mim dropped the bouquet, threw her arms around Jon's neck and pulled him in for a hungry kiss that he eagerly returned.

When they finished, he shook his head and set down the bottle on the table. "You really thought I'd leave you?" he asked in disbelief.

"When I returned," Mim explained, forcing herself to look Jon in the eye, "you weren't here, and then I found my note. It seemed like you were drawing a line under what had happened. To be honest, I would not have blamed you."

"Why?" he said, confused.

She took him by the hand and led him to the small couch beneath the large skylight that, like its twin in the bedroom, dominated its space. "Jon, you have family, a life back in the States, and I told you to choose between me and that. That was most unfair and selfish of me."

"Maybe so. But it was smart," Jon said with a shrug before he squeezed her hands. "At first I thought you were being, well, bossy …"

Mim shot him a dangerous look but he grinned, shrugged again, and continued.

"… But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. The States, even after we cleared your name, would be all about the past. If we stay here, we can focus on our future."

Mim smiled. "You can be a very wise man, Jon Stoppable," she said before she embraced him.

"You think I can get that in writing?" he asked.

Mim pulled back and smirked. "And how would that do you any good?" she asked sassily. "You would merely misplace the paper."

"Oh ho!" he said. "See if you get any champagne, Mim Possible!"

"Oh, I'll have my champagne, Jon Stoppable," she said.

"Not until I get a kiss," he said, wagging his finger.

"Perhaps I'm not that thirsty after all," she japed.

"It's a good vintage," he trilled, holding up the champagne before he puckered his lips in anticipation of a smooch. "Hey!" he said as Mim swiped the bottle from his grasp.

She made a show of inspecting the label, then looked at Jon. "This vintage does not warrant a kiss," she said disdainfully.

"What?" he replied, disappointed that Mim wasn't impressed with his choice of bubbly.

"Oh no," she said, unable to keep the grin from her face. "This merits a trip to the bedroom," she said in a smoldering voice that set Jon's heart racing. "Now why don't you bring this," she suggested as she handed him the bottle, "and I will get two glasses."

III.

Jon ran his fingers through Mim's hair as she rested her head on his chest. They lay together in the bed, tired but satisfied, the champagne bottle emptied hours before. "This makes desertion very tempting," he observed.

"You will most definitely not desert, Jon Stoppable," she said sternly. "It's been years since one of our capers and I really don't know that I still have the skills to break into the stockade."

"You'd free me from prison?" he asked, touched by her devotion.

"No, I would not," she said primly, at least as primly as a naked woman can when entwined with her equally naked lover.

"Then why would you need to break in?" he asked, puzzled.

"Why should I be deprived of this just because you are incarcerated?" she asked as her hand wandered.

"Ooooh," Jon rasped. "Gotcha."

"Actually, it would appear I have you," Mim said. "Now it would be much easier for everyone concerned if you reported for duty, waited for your discharge, and returned to me."

"I guess you know best," he said, wondering how he'd survived the last fifteen years without her before he added, "You should still probably begin practicing your adventuring skills."

"Oh?" she asked.

"I know you're an incredible nurse and that you're dedicated to your work but I hope you'll be able to find some time to help me after I hang out my shingle. It's not like I know Paris, you know. And then there's the challenge of being a one-armed shamus …"

Mim beamed at Jon. "I would like nothing more than to work with you again, Jonathan."

"Nothing?" he said as his hand began to explore.

"Oooh," Mim cooed. "Perhaps there is something I would like more …"

* * *

_To Be Concluded …_


	8. Together

Thanks to Mr. Wizard, whitem, CajunBear73, screaming phoenix, Josh84, kpfan72491, Quathis, Pharaoh Rutin Tutin, Samurai Crunchbird, Kwebs, Molloy, Jurnee Jakes, daywalkr82, storyreader51, DJ Dubois, Yankee Bard, Joe Stoppinghem, and daccu65 for reviewing to everyone for reading.

Thanks to campy for proofreading

As ever, leave a review and you'll receive a response.

Mim & Jon © Disney

* * *

Paris

May 15, 1919

I.

Mim impatiently looked from her watch to the ornate clock that dominated the waiting area to the train tracks. She knew there was nothing she could do to speed the arrival of Jon's train from Le Havre, which was due to arrive at 3:18. Wishing it were here now at 3:01 was pointless. Still, she found herself doing just that.

It had been two months since she'd seen him off. He'd received his orders to return Stateside to be discharged. They agreed that he'd return to Go City, settle his affairs, and come back to France at the earliest possible moment. The month they had together after being reunited on Valentine's Day had been intense. Thanks to Jon's understanding CO, he was able to be away from the bachelor officers' quarters and with Mim far more than they'd expected. But then the orders arrived for him to ship out and despite everyone's best attempts to spare him the voyage across the Atlantic, Jon had to go to America before he'd be allowed to muster out of the service.

Though neither Mim nor Jon had been excited by the prospect of separation, they were able to acknowledge that there were benefits to the trip. Jon would be able to properly bid farewell to his brother and his family, to whom he'd explain that he'd met a woman named Miriam Press in Paris; dispose of his car and most of his furniture, which he'd no longer need; arrange to have some things shipped to France; and tie up his finances, which would help Mim and Jon as they made the transition into their new life together.

Mim was tapping her foot as she looked at the clock: it was only 3:11.

She smiled, pleased with her efforts on Jon's behalf since he'd left. She'd spoken with acquaintances in both the Paris police and demimonde, once-wounded men she'd cared for during the war and its aftermath, and begun to smooth the way for Jon to begin his work as a private investigator. Much to her satisfaction she had already been approached with inquiries regarding his ability to work on potential cases.

She smoothed her blouse, then looked at her watch and sighed: 3:16 and two minutes more until Jon's arrival.

She walked to the platform and peered down the track, looking for the engine's headlamp. She was gripped by excitement when the small but growing light came into view.

The great locomotive pulled into the station, smoke belching from its stack. She watched attentively as people began to disembark from the cars, anxious to catch her first glimpse of Jon.

She looked and looked.

And then she saw him, his blond hair slightly messy, his bushy mustache unmistakable, and the empty sleeve of his greatcoat hanging by his side.

Her heart raced as she watched him, allowing herself to be lost in the moment, enjoying the thrill of his reappearance after their two-month-long separation. Then she began making her way through the crowd to him, waving in his direction. She flashed him an electric smile when he saw her and waved in return. The two old friends-turned-lovers rushed to one another, sharing a hungry kiss and a tight embrace.

They found a porter, collected Jon's luggage from the baggage car and arranged to have his things brought to the curb. Then Mim looped her arm through Jon's, flashed him a winsome smile, and pulled him close. Arm in arm, they strolled out to the street, tipped the porter, hailed a cab, and headed to the garret in St-Germain-des-pres to begin their new life together.

II.

The small, stocky man studied his maps, diagrams, notes and schematics yet again. He'd been working feverishly ever since January and the beginning of the accursed Peace Conference whose sole purpose was to shame Germany even further.

He would not let that happen. Though the German Empire had lost on the battlefield, he was determined that the final victory would belong to his beloved Reich.

He would succeed where the Prussian military juggernaut had failed.

He would avenge the Fatherland.

And he would destroy them all: Lloyd George, Clemenceau and especially that arch-meddler, Woodrow Wilson, the damnable, moralizing, pince-nez-wearing president of the United States.

Holding aloft the Electroconducting Annihilator, his greatest invention yet, Fritz Demenz, a one-time exhibitor at the Middleton World's Fair who had left the United States in 1914 to serve his Kaiser and the Empire, began laughing, at first quietly, but then maniacally, confident of his ultimate triumph ...

_Coming in 2009 (hopefully)_

_Springtime in Paris: A Mim and Jon Adventure_


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